


The Wind Blown Through

by Catullus_50



Category: Kamen Rider W (Double)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Detective Noir, F/F, Girls Kissing, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catullus_50/pseuds/Catullus_50
Summary: Sonozaki Wakana comes back and tries to find her brother. Instead, she runs into Narumi Akiko, who has a mystery to solve.





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obstinateRixatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinateRixatrix/gifts).

> I have, alas, never read a noir detective novel (and didn't have time to before this work), so it should be tagged more "canon levels of noir" or "noir-ish". If you were looking for the next Sam Spade, this isn't it (though why were you looking for that in W?).

She was sent back. After the end, when her family had laid down its burdens, there was one thing left unfinished. One sacrifice not yet honored. And so, Sonozaki Wakana was borne up out of the earth, coming to rest in a flowering meadow in the scrub hills above the city of Fuuto.

A year had passed since she had sent Philip home to his family. Summer was high, and the wind that moved the city had her in its grasp. She drifted, tired and dazed in the sunlight, through the echoes of her former lives, but neither the healing princess or dutiful priestess were left. There was only Wakana, a person she didn’t know. Slowly, like a planet in orbit, she circled the one tie she had to the surface world, until it led to a small detective agency, almost hidden behind a pool hall.

* * *

She blew into the office in a gust of autumn wind and rain. Akiko looked up at the sound, putting down her coffee and Shoutarou’s latest report. _Of all the dames in the world, of all the offices in the world, she had to walk into mine._ With him, Philip, and Ryu away on rider business, she had been reading too many of the detective novels lying around the place. Business was slow. And the woman who just walked in meant trouble. Trouble she didn’t know how to deal with.

The woman, or rather Sonozaki Wakana, had been caught in the rain, and stood dripping on the office floor. Her dress was drenched, her hair straggling. She was very changed from the last time Akiko had seen her, except for the wild look in her eyes. Self-consciously, she removed the pencil she had been endeavoring to balance on her upper lip. 

Before she could speak, Wakana strode in, scanning the room. "Where's Raito?" Akiko edged back towards the desk. "Where is Philip?"

"Why do you want him?" She replied warily. _Was this Wakana the one who tried to save him? Or the one who wanted to kill him? And how is she alive?_

“He must be here somewhere!” She swept around the room, as if he could have been hiding under the desk. When she turned to the basement door, Akiko intercepted her.

“He’s not in Fuuto right now. Him and Shoutarou both.” She wasn’t prepared for the lost look on Wakana’s face, as if a candle had been blown out. Hastily she added, “They’ll be back soon.” _What will she do?_

The other woman sank to the couch as if her tendons had been cut. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she was clearly fighting them. Warily, Akiko brought her a box of tissues, and placed them on the table beside her. They were ignored. She waited, the urge to comfort fighting with the fear of a potential threat. 

Gradually, Wakana regained her composure. She glared at Akiko as if it was her fault. "My entire family is dead, except for Philip. I came all the way here to find them, and you tell me he’s gone."

Akiko squinted at her. “Just out of curiosity, just how did you come here? I thought you died or something. Philip had a long and complicated explanation on what exactly happened, but I didn’t understand. The gist of it though was that you were gone.” She tilted her head. “If it is you, and not some copycat.”

It had not been the right thing to say. Wakana’s eyes filled up again. “I don't know how I came back!” She tried to glare through the veil of tears, but it had lost its edge. “I don’t know anything anymore!”

The sight of her, bedraggled and almost crying, like a wet, angry kitten, was pitiable. Comfort won out. _I’m going to regret this,_ she thought as she offered, “Philip’s not the only family member you have left. Come to my house.” 

It worked, if only through surprise. Wakana stood and wiped her eyes, then followed her out of the door. _It may prove to be a stupid idea, but I can’t take it back now._


	2. Fuuto City Blues

Akiko’s home was a half of a two story duplex, similar to its neighbors. The front was barely set back from the sidewalk, and the tiny yard was filled with fallen leaves, treacherously slippery. Wakana drifted through the entrance, passively accepting the towel and slippers handed to her. From the hall, she could see the kitchen was small but cozy, and rain drummed on the window overlooking the table. A living room was comfortably cluttered beside it. No one else was here. She hadn’t believed Akiko, she had seen all her family die; so why had she come? Why had Akiko brought her here? Suspicious, she asked, “So where is this person from my family?”

A gray furry blur ran up to her and twined between her legs. Mikku yowled, and she realized there was someone left after all. She scooped him up into her arms, eyes stinging. “I thought you died in the fire,” she whispered into his soft fur. 

“Ta-dah!” Akiko waved her hands at the cat. “I’m looking after him while Philip is away. He doesn’t like me as much though…” Mikku tried to swat her and she stuck out her tongue at him. Wakana sat, holding the loudly purring cat upon her lap. Tenderness welled up in her heart, a feeling she had long forgotten. She stroked him gently and he melted into her lap, going boneless under her hands. A sudden click broke her from her reverie: a mug, steaming hot, sat on the table next to her. She wrapped one hand around it, the other still resting on the cat. Warmth shocked her bones. In contrast, now she could feel the cold in the rest of her body and she shivered. 

Akiko gave her an incomprehensible look. “You need to warm up. Let me get you a change of clothes. You can use the shower if you want.” She picked up the yowling cat in one arm. “C’mon kitty, you don’t want her to get hypothermia.” 

Wakana complied. She was shaking now, the cold endlessly deep. The hot water hurt her skin, but soon she was gloriously warm, so warm she never wanted to leave. Akiko knocked. “I have a towel and some clothes for you.”

Eventually, Wakana emerged, wrinkled from the water. Wrapped in a towel, she examined the offering: Fuzzy pajamas. With a cartoon duck pattern, and much too big for her. _Tch. Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose._ She grimaced as she put them on. Her own dripping clothes had been whisked away.

Akiko was nowhere to be found when she peeked into the kitchen, nor was she in the living room. She thought of heading upstairs to look for her, but Mikku announced his presence loudly, herding her to the sofa and howling until she sat. He lept into her lap. Trapped, she pulled the afghan from the back of the couch over herself. “Silly cat,” she said, petting his ears. He purred in response, eyes closing. He looked content. She yawned, and suddenly the exhaustion of days crept over her. _I should get up and go home,_ she thought, but didn’t move. It was warm and comfortable and safe, and the rusted motor sound of Mikku washed over her. She drifted into slumber.

* * *

Wakana awoke, a crick in her neck and a warm, heavy weight on her legs. “Get off, cat,” she mumbled, and struggled to sit up. Someone had tucked an extra blanket over her feet and a pillow under her head. Mikku yowled in protest, but dropped to the floor. In the other room she heard Akiko talking to someone.

Blearily she rubbed her eyes. Morning sun streamed through the windows. Had she slept there all night? She looked down to see the still awful pajamas. _Ugh._ Her clothes from yesterday were dry and neatly folded beside her, and she hurried to get dressed.

As she put the final touches of her makeup on, Akiko knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you almost done in there?”

Wakana opened the door. “You don’t have a curling iron, do you?” She looked at Akiko’s straight hair. “Never mind.” She swept down the hall. By the doorway, her boots were still damp inside. Tch. She steeled herself to put them on.

“Do you want to borrow some of my shoes? I think we’re the same size.” Akiko offered her some sneakers, scuffed across the toes. She shot them a look of quickly suppressed scorn. _She's trying to be nice, so don’t screw that up._ "Thank you," she muttered. _They still don't go with my dress,_ she thought rebelliously.

Outside, she drifted after Akiko, mind still twisting down the same paths they had for months. _What am I going to do with myself until Philip gets back? What will he say? What will_ I _say?_ It just went around in circles. She didn’t even notice when Akiko halted right in front of her.

She nearly slammed into her, only quick reflexes saving her from a fall. That and the other woman catching her flailing hand. "Why are you following me?" She didn’t know how to answer that. 

“I wasn’t following you. Not exactly…”

Akiko sighed. "I'm meeting a client with a case. We can talk afterwards. Wait here." She strode inside. It looked like a traditional ramen shop on the outside, though whimsically titled: Four Corners Ramen. Inside, it was a whirl of colors. Not willing to be left behind, Wakana entered and sat at the counter.

Akiko was talking to a woman, presumably the client. She was dressed for kitchen work, white coat and sensible shoes, and was obviously distraught. Her hair was falling from the professional ponytail, and her eyes were reddened. A man stood behind her, hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know where it could have gone. It was there when I locked up last night. I don't know why this is happening." The woman buried her face in her hands.

"Was anything else missing?" She shook her head. Akiko scribbled in her pink notebook. "Did you notice anything strange or suspicious recently?"

"I haven't noticed anything unusual," said the man, probably her husband. 

"Wait-” The woman interrupted him. “I've had a few things missing from the stores. Not a lot, but it was three times in the past month. And the till came up short last week."

"Dear, I thought we agreed that that was just an error on the order form.” Definitely the husband. “And you must have made a mistake on the register. Math was never your strong suit." The man patted her on the shoulder comfortingly, then moved behind the counter.

She sobbed harder. "Now my award plaque is missing." A paler square of paint on the wall was all that remained. "I know it’s just a piece of wood, but it is very important to me."

"Excuse me, miss, but we're not open yet." The man distracted Wakana from her observations. "You'll have to wait outside."

She resisted the urge to glare at him; instead, she put on her best princess face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I’m just waiting for my friend here." She gestured at Akiko. 

"Well you should let your friend know she's wasting her time. And my money. My wife probably took it down to clean it, and forgot about it. It’s probably under a stack of papers in the house. My Keiko can be so forgetful sometimes." He sighed. She caught a whiff of something unpleasantly chemical. "She was so happy when she won the award, but she started overworking herself. And then after the incident with Wonderly… well, I think the stress is getting to her.”

She smiled sweetly. “What happened at Wonderly?” she asked idly, toying with a bottle of soy sauce. Akiko was handing a tissue to the woman. Keiko.

“About two months back, they started selling some ramen that my wife claimed was a copy of her secret recipe. She was convinced that the owner somehow stole it, so she stormed down there and got into an argument with him.” He busily unloaded the dishwasher. The smell was gone now; maybe he just had a bad tooth. “He said it was a coincidence, but she didn’t want to let it go though. She made such a scene, the police were almost involved”

“You don’t seem to think he stole it, do you?” Akiko was holding Keiko’s hand comfortingly now. Her own hand suddenly ached with remembered heat.

He sighed again, putting down a stack of bowls. “Not really. Don’t tell her I said that though. I doubt most broths are that different, and how could he have gotten her secret recipe anyway?” He glanced at his wife, who was talking now, a wad of tissues clasped in her hand. “I’d best get back to her.”

_I don’t like him._ Wakana returned to her observation. He hadn’t been a complete creep, unlike most men she knew, but he still rubbed her the wrong way. Men were just like that. The interview over, they left the restaurant, Akiko still writing in her notebook. Wakana peeked over her shoulder and caught the top of the page:

_ Client: Matsugi Keiko Husband: Matsugi Ren_

_ Missing: 1 award plaque for Best Ramen in Fuuto  
1 flat onions  
4 jugs soy sauce  
2 bags of flour  
2600 yen_

_Various items missing over three months. No sign of break in each time. _

“The husband thinks she just forgot it.” Wakana commented into her ear. Akiko whirled to face her, her plaid cape lifting with the wind. 

“Keiko’s not lying!” She frowned. “Someone definitely took those things.”

“They’re not very valuable.” Wakana pointed out. “They weren’t taking them for the money. Maybe someone needed food?”

“Then what about the award plaque? And four jugs of soy sauce isn’t a likely food source. It must be someone with a grudge against the restaurant.” She tapped her pen on her lip. “Keiko couldn’t think of any enemies. There are other places that sell ramen, but she says they’re all on good terms.”

“Really? The husband said she thought another shop had stolen a recipe and pitched a fit. That doesn’t seem like “good terms”. She’s lying about something.”

“Something suspicious is going on for sure.” Akiko tucked the notebook away into her cape. “What was the name of the rival shop?”


	3. Mr Wonderly

The sunny day grew windy, as it often did in the city. Akiko trudged up the winding road, the breeze swirling dusty leaves around her feet. Another set of footsteps marched in rhythm with her own. Someone was behind her.

“Are you still following me?” She turned. “Don’t you have better things to do?” Her hair blew into her face, and Wakana giggled. 

“I always said that you’re an interesting woman.” Akiko felt her hair being gently brushed out of her eyes. “And I don’t have anything better to do today than watch you solve ‘The Great Ramen Caper’. “

“You don’t have to mock me. It doesn’t matter if it’s something small, it was important to my client.” Akiko glared at her. “You should take the emotions she’s feeling seriously.” 

“I wasn’t trying to mock the case.” Bitterness flickered over Wakana’s face. “Or you.” She changed the subject. “Why were you so nice to me last night? We aren’t friends. We were enemies.”

“I guess… You seemed like you had lost your anchor, adrift at sea. Most of the people that you loved are gone now...” She thought for a moment. “We may not be friends, but we are family, after a sorts.” At Wakana’s puzzled glance, she elaborated, “Well me, Philip, Shoutarou, and Ryu are family after all, and you’re Philip’s sister, so that makes you family too!”

Her expression was hard to read. It seemed painful, like a bone broken before it can be reset. Maybe she had messed up.

“I didn’t mean to poke a sore spot! I know family is a sensitive subject, but-” Akiko realized she was babbling. “The point is, I would like us to be friends.”

Wakana stared at her, like she wanted to say something. She opened her mouth, but instead the words that came out were, “Isn’t this the place? ‘Wonderly’?” She strode past her towards the door. Akiko had to grab her arm.

“Wait! We should scope it out first. A detective doesn’t charge in blindly!” _Except when necessary,_ she amended. She dragged Wakana around the corner, to peer in through the shaded windows.

It was a tiny place, only enough for a counter and seats. The white walls were covered with stencils: guns, playing cards, bottles, and some _very_ buxom women. In the equally tiny kitchen, a man worked. His shoulders stretched the seams of his sweat soaked shirt. More perspiration trickled down his shaved head to be caught in a kerchief headband. The tail of a tattoo peeked over his collar; more ran down his arms to his hands, which were each the size of her face. He turned, and she could see the scar that split his left eyebrow and the knot of a long ago broken nose. _A dangerous man._

In the window was their menu. Underneath was a faded poster: Summer Special! Spicy Tomato Ramen. _Same kind as what Keiko showed me. Seems that part at least is true. No way to tell if it’s a copy though._ Wakana tugged impatiently at her arm. She ignored her and wrote it down in her notebook. Her arm was tugged again.

“Hold on, I want to observe more. What if he’s not the owner?” She asked. She hadn’t gotten the name of the rival from Keiko. _Did she describe him at all?_ She looked through her notes.

“I think he saw us.” 

“Crap.” Akiko stood up in a hurry. The man stood in the doorway and frowned at them, the shadow from the awning falling into his face.

“Can I help you girls?” he growled. He crossed his massive arms over his chest. Tattoos rippled in the sun.

Akiko squeaked, but quietly. Unexpectedly, Wakana took a step in front of her, blocking him. She didn’t looked scared at all. _Is she protecting me?_ Akiko straightened her spine. She wasn’t going to back down.

“I am Chief Detective Narumi Akiko!” She stepped around her defender’s arm and handed him a business card. “I’m a private detective, and I’ve been hired to investigate a missing item.”

His mouth hardened into a line. “I’m no thief. And I don’t have to talk to you.” He made to close the door, but she intercepted it.

“Wait! Someone saw you had a fight with the victim. About a stolen recipe.”

“Is this about Matsugi Keiko? Did that damn woman accuse me again? I didn’t steal shit! She has it in for me.” His frown had deepened, eyes smoldering. She had really pissed him off. 

“If you didn’t steal it, then why are you offering the same ramen as her? The same secret ingredient?” She wasn’t sure he had, but if she pushed him hard, maybe he would incriminate himself. It had worked before.

He took a step forward, fists balled. Akiko stumbled back. He opened his mouth to shout at her, but Wakana interrupted. "Say, weren't you one of the guys in that cat rescue thing?" She scrolled through her phone, nails glittering. "Here! Cat Dads Raise Money for Animal Rescue. I had a segment on them for my show once." She showed Akiko the article; it was full of pictures of kittens being cuddled. The shop owner, one Hirosa "Sam" Murashige, was one of them, a tiny calico nestled in the palm of his hand, an absurdly tender expression on his face.

The man in question deflated a bit. Wakana followed up with a winning smile. "Why don't we go inside to talk." She blithely walked past him into the shop. They had no choice but to follow.

Inside, he slumped against the wall. "Look, I've never stolen anything in my life. People have always said that kind of shit about me. It’s all bull." He sighed and tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his apron. "That recipe's given me nothing but trouble. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it. It was back in the spring: I had a customer come in, just before closing. Normally I would have been pissed, but It had been a slow night. He was friendly, so we got to talking. He kept ordering beers, so I wasn’t gonna discourage him. Eventually he started talking about his hometown, and he says that he used to work in a restaurant there. Every summer they'd do some special ramen and he waxed poetic about it. He was pretty trashed by then. He leaned in and whispered the recipe in my ear. I wasn’t gonna do anything with it, but I got bored, figured I might as well try it out. It was damn good, so I added it to the menu. I did good business. Until that woman showed up, wailing about how I stole it from her." He shook his head. "And now you've turned up, asking about that same damn recipe." 

Akiko tapped her pencil on her notebook. "Did you happen to catch that man's name? Or a description?" 

"He said his name was Oda Taro." Her lips quirked up. "Yeah I know, but I'm not going to dig into my customers' lives. Doesn’t matter if he’s got a fake name, as long as he pays his bill. He was wearing a hat, one of those old fashioned ones with a brim. Didn’t suit him. Nothing about him really stuck out." He paused. “There was one thing. He smelled a bit like the road in summer. Like when it’s so sunny you can see the heat rise off it.”

“That’s strange.” _How does it connect to this case, though?_ Akiko mused. _He seems to be telling the truth, or he’s a good storyteller. It matches what we already know. Wakana has been surprisingly helpful, using her powers for good._ Her stomach interrupted with an angry gurgle; she hadn’t eaten breakfast. _Time to go._ “Thank you for your assistance. I’m sorry for thinking you were a thief.”

“Ah, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you. I’m just a bit sensitive about that.” He smiled ruefully at them. “Come back anytime if you want some damn good ramen. I’ll give you a discount.”


	4. The Clay Goddess

The cafe they were in was small, wood paneled, and old. Dust motes caught in the late morning sun streaming through the windows, and jazz emanated from the dim depths of the long room. Wakana delicately sipped her tea, watching Akiko devour her breakfast: eggs, toast with jam, and coffee. She muttered in between bites, flipping the pages of her notebook back and forth. The messiness of it was somehow… cute.

“Ah man, I can’t figure this one out!” Akiko exclaimed. “There’s too many pieces missing.” She took a too-big gulp of coffee, sputtering a bit.

Wakana giggled. She covered her mouth with a hand, then stopped. _Old habits die hard, I guess._ She covered by taking a bite of her coffee cake.

Akiko was staring at her, an odd smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before. Not for real. Not like you were enjoying yourself.”

She looked down. She didn’t want a reminder of her former life. There hadn’t been a reason for genuine laughter then. Not since Raito disappeared. 

“You looked a bit like Philip just then. Sometimes he gets that same sad look in his eyes too. Bad memories, I guess.” Akiko reached across the table and grabbed her hand. She froze. “He’ll be back soon. And he’s going to be so happy to see you.”

Somehow, she was comforted. She allowed herself to relax as Akiko’s hand lingered for a moment more. Taking a sip, she changed the subject. “You know, I think I can still access the Planetary Bookshelves. If you wanted me too.”

Akiko’s eyes grew round. “Really? Does it work like it does with Philip? Hold on, let me try to think of some keywords.” She looked over her notebook. “I have a hunch that the identity of the mystery man with the recipe is the key to this whole mystery: he’s the most suspicious. Let’s try… ‘man’, ‘ramen’, and the names of the restaurants, ‘Four Corners’ and ‘Wonderly’ to start.”

Wakana entered the Bookshelves. Before her death, they had been a combat zone; they were much more peaceful now. Easily she sorted through them, and soon she narrowed it down to a handful of shelves. “I’m going to need more.”

“What did that man say, he smelled like a ‘road in summer’? Try... “asphalt”. ”

It worked. Only one book was left: _Matsugi Ren_.

“The husband? Why?” Akiko exclaimed. Wakana skimmed through the pages in her mind. She couldn’t read as quickly as Philip had been able to. _More practice probably_.

“It’s not a very interesting book. Average grades, average salary. Has been married for five years. Works at an engineering company in materials testing, which might explain the smell.” She skipped past the mundane. “Hmmmm, this part might be relevant: in March he was passed over for a promotion. The other person was better qualified, but she had worked there a few months less than him. Had a better interview as well.” She opened her eyes. “Anything else you need?”

Akiko was staring into the distance, tapping the end of her pencil on the table. Wakana could practically see the cogs turning in her brain. “I think I have most of it. We just need to talk to the husband one more time.”


	5. Trouble Comes in Twos

When they returned to Four Corners, it was full of customers. The lunch rush had passed, but a few still lingered inside. Keiko was working in the kitchen, hair neatly back up under a kerchief, her husband was behind the register. He waved at them as they walked through the door. Akiko ushered him to the storage room behind the kitchen, so she could talk to him in private. 

“Any news about the missing plaque?” Ren asked. In the enclosed space, she noticed the scent that clung to him. _Definitely asphalt_. She smiled.

“Not quite yet, but I’m sure we’ll find it soon.” She flipped open her notebook. “I just had a few more questions for you, just to clarify. First, have you ever visited the restaurant Wonderly?”

“Not after that whole incident, for sure. Probably before though; I sometimes go to other ramen places with my coworkers. Don’t tell my wife,” he joked. His fingers twitched, and he put his hands in his pockets.

“Did you go there in April, late at night, perhaps?”

“I’m not sure, that’s a while ago. I don’t remember.” His tone was carefully casual, but she knew she had him. 

“Did you go there alone?”

He blustered, trying to shoo them out of the room. “Now look here, girls, I don’t see wha-”

They didn’t budge. “Do you know your wife’s secret recipe for spicy tomato ramen?”

His face twisted. “What the hell are you playing at? Are you accusing me of telling Sam the recipe? Selling out my own wife?”

Wakana looked thoughtful. “You don’t know if you’ve been to Wonderly, but you know the owner’s name? That doesn’t seem very truthful.” She gave him an innocent smile.

“Fine, you caught me. I’ve been to a restaurant my wife doesn’t own. Put me in jail,” he hissed. “Get out of here. I’m done talking.”

“But what about this?” Akiko pulled a square wood plaque from her pocket. 

He paled. “Where did you get that?” Slowly his face changed from white to red. “It doesn’t matter what trash heap you dug that from, it was where it belonged. You don’t even know what that thing did to me. We’d been married a year. Business was ok, but not great. We were thinking of selling, or just closing it down. But then she got that fucking award, and now her life is this place. All her time is spent here! All her thoughts and passion are spent here! We could have had children by now, but each time I ask, she says she’s too busy. Too busy! What about what I want?” He took a deep breath. “That bitch doesn’t even care about me anymore. When I didn’t get that promotion, I came home and wanted just a little comfort. But she kept saying she had to get back to work! That’s when I knew she loved this place more than me.”

A strangled sob broke through the pause in his rant. They all turned to find Keiko in the doorway, hands over her mouth as if trying to physically hold her feelings in. “That’s why? You didn’t think I loved you enough? I held you through all those nights you came home drunk and bemoaning your fate, and I didn’t complain when I took care of you the morning after. This restaurant is my dream, yes, but I loved you! And you _lied_ to me, made me think I was losing my mind…!” She broke down into tears.

Ren had been shocked to silence at her appearance, but quickly returned to his rage. Akiko watched his temper rise with every word she spoke. At the end of her outburst, he sprang towards his wife, fists rising. She stepped swiftly in front of Keiko, but he didn’t look like he was going to let that deter him. She reached into her cape for her baton. He swung at her, a long, slow haymaker she sidestepped and then brought the baton down on his wrist with bruising force. He switched targets, reaching for Wakana, and she drove the end of it into his belly, knocking the wind out of him, just as Wakana drove the heel of her shoe into his toes. He keeled over, struggling for air.

“That would have worked better if I had been wearing my boots,” Wakana commented. Akiko had to stifle a laugh; her client was still potentially in danger. She turned to her, not taking her eyes off of the husband.

“What do you want us to do, ma’am?” she asked.

Keiko pulled herself together with shuddering breaths. “Just… just get him out of my restaurant. I can’t deal with him right now.” She fled to the bathroom. 

Akiko stared hard at the man. He had mostly caught his breath. “Are you going to leave quietly?” She asked, her baton held steady. He glanced at it, then her, and nodded, glaring. Nevertheless, she followed him out the back, as he muttered nasty comments under his breath. She closed the door firmly behind him.

“What’s to stop him from making more mischief?” Wakana was still behind her. She turned and leaned against the door.

“Just let them try!” She brandished the baton, half jokingly. The other woman looked at her with an odd expression in her eyes. “What are-?”

It was then Wakana did something totally unexpected. Slowly she moved closer, until there was barely an inch between them. Gently she held Akiko’s face in her hands and kissed her. 

Akiko froze in place as sweet sunlight flooded her brain. _I didn’t hear anything about this,_ she thought as soft lips pressed against her own. Her knees wobbled and she leaned more heavily on the door, breaking the kiss. Oh, she thought, disappointed. Her hand had curled around Wakana’s neck. _When did that happen?_

The other woman was still standing too close. Elation and worry flashed over her face, mirroring Akiko’s own roiling emotions. _What do I do?_ Her feelings all fought to make themselves known. _What I want to do is kiss her again_. She pulled Wakana’s face down to her own.


End file.
